


Scentless

by amuk



Series: Battlefield [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Loneliness, Long-Distance Relationship, Romance, Separations, War Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been a month since she’s seen him. Maybe two, but she doesn’t like to count.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scentless

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt/Theme: Day 29 // ‘Possibly Maybe’ by Bjork

It’s been a month since she’s seen him. Maybe two, but she doesn’t like to count the days much. If she does, she thinks she might break.

 

She might be breaking anyways—the apartment is always dark when she goes home, the bed always cold when she wakes up. Work is always interesting but tiring, there are some days when she gets frustrated and others when she is just smiles.

 

Life goes on. That is the problem. There is nothing to signify that he isn’t here with her, nothing that mentions his importance to her. Only a passing thought, a casual remark—some days she forgets entirely about Sasuke.

 

Then she’ll get a phone call, a letter, something small and something his. The image is a little grainy on her computer when he calls her tonight. His voice sounds worn through her computer, his eyes tired, and even as she talks to him she feels ashamed.

 

It is all too easy to forget and move on, to fill in the gap in her life that is his. All too easy, and that more than the prolonged absences or the brief pangs of longing break her when she turns off the computer, his voice already fading in her ears.

                                                                                                                                       

When she sleeps that night, she curls up next to his favourite sweater, her nose buried deep into the wool.

 

It doesn’t smell like him anymore.


End file.
